Berlin's Most Eligible Bachelor
by FrauLanda
Summary: ‘The Jew Hunter’ meets an intriguing young woman at a ball and finds himself in pursuit of an all-together-different kind of prey…Hans Landa/OC Rated M for later chapters
1. Kapitel Eins

****I do no own any of Tarantino's fantastic characters, and I hope he doesn't begrudge me, my poor imitation of their genius. Bon Appetit!****

The gravel crunches beneath two-heavily booted feet as "The Jew Hunter" steps down from the car and toward the marble stairs of the brightly lit mansion.. He adjusts the cuffs of his ceremonial uniform, unnecessarily checking his impeccable appearance. _Another party, another night of fake congratulations and simpering smiles._ Still, he does enjoy a good glass of champagne and this _is _Karl Schultz's house, so the music at least is bound to be bearable.

He leaves the cool fog behind him as he crosses the thresh-hold of the cheerful foyer.

"Hans! Hans my boy! Get your talented ass over here! Jetzt!" Karl's booming voice cuts through the din and music, alerting all of Berlin of The Jew Hunter's arrival. The Colonel obliges and shakes the hand of the SS-und-Polizeiführer, who is already red-faced from schnapps.

"Vielen Dank, Karl! Once again, you have out done yourself. Guten Abend, Elfriede," the Colonel gives his colleague a nod and kisses Karl's wife's hand.

"It's nothing m'boy! You never get the praise you deserve!" Karl dismisses loudly, craning his neck in apparent search of someone. "Elfriede, where is that wretched daughter of ours? I wanted her to meet Landa…"

"Out on the balcony, I think," she retorts, blushing at her husband's obvious intoxication.

"Never mind then. Landa first you must have a glass of champagne, then you will have your pick of Berlin's finest beauties for a dance partner!"

"The champagne, I will accept. The dancing will have to wait, I'm afraid." Landa replies.

"Nonsense, you are Berlin's most eligible bachelor and you need a woman to smooth those worry-lines from your handsome forehead!" Karl hiccups slapping the Colonel on the back.

"Bachelor, indeed! Are wizened old men counting as bachelors now?" Landa chuckles, "Thank you for the party, Karl. I'm off to the find the champagne. Greet your guests-"

"They are _your _guests, m'boy. This is your night." Karl interrupts. "We will let you sneak away for now, but you will leave my house with a girl on your arm or I shall host a ball in your honor every night till you do!"

They salute each other. Landa slinks off to the shadows grabbing a flute of champagne as he goes. He scans the large circular room out of habit, and sees only jolly officers and beautiful women. _Nothing terribly interesting here_, he muses swirling the magnificent champagne over his tongue. He notices several women eyeing him anxiously yet appreciatively, and kicks himself for not picking a better hiding spot. He nods politely, and glides gracefully across the dance floor toward the gang of women. Instead of stopping, however he brushes past them, "Entschuldigung." and steps through the double doors into the crisp night air. The torch-lit balcony is large and virtually empty, save the young women leaning against the marble railing.

He swiftly makes his way over to the railing and sets his glass down. The woman turns to him in a whisper of cream silk, "No, I don't mind…go ahead and smoke that ridiculously large pipe…"

"Oh, Entschuldigung. _Do_ you mind?" He gestures to the pipe he'd been lighting.

"I said I didn't," she laughs lightly. "Nervous are we, Herr…?"

"I'm not nervous." Landa says with cold simplicity and without offering his name. She believes him, and realizes she mistook annoyance for nervousness.

"Forgive me." Something about him made her uneasy, "Are you well acquainted with Colonel Landa?" She asks, eager for a change in topic.

"Only a little." Landa says mischieviously, glad to play a little game. "Are you?"

"I have only heard the stories…are they true?" she steals a sidelong glance at her companion, wishing she had paid attention to her father's explanation of rank by uniform decoration. She admires his lean muscular form and the endearing graying of his sideburns and temple.

"Hmm" he takes a drag, "In my experience tales about Colonel Landa tend to be true."

"Well, if that is so, I don't know why we bother to commend him…"

For a fleeting moment she thinks she sees a shadow cross his face, but it is gone as quickly as it came. A slow, dangerous smile spreads there, leaving handsome dimples in its wake. "Please, elaborate." A Champagne carrying waiter approaches them.

"I mean only that the man is famous for his "knack" of killing Jews. Hardly the most impressive skill…Thank you." She takes the glass of champagne the Jew Hunter offers her and watches the waiter disappear back into her father's house.

"Are you sympathetic to the Jewish cause?" he needles, noticing the delicate curve of her lips on the fragile champagne flute.

"Hah! Hardly. I just grow bored of hearing about it: the war. Whatever happened to art and literature? I would like to know if Colonel Landa has a single fiber of culture in his murderous body." She licks her lips and smiles at the amused expression on the soldier's face.

"Perhaps you should ask him…" the man whispers, his posture going rigid, causing shivers to ripple down her spine for reasons she knows not.

"I-I, um, I think I will. If he ever even shows up. How's that for a hero? My father hosts a ball in the Colonel's name, and the louse is late…" she stutters.

"Your father?"

"Yes. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Eva, Eva Schultz." She extends her hand blushing.

Landa bends to her slender hand, and bestows a soft, yet lingering kiss on her smooth skin. "Mmm," a low noise from his throat makes her knees buckle, "Freut mich, Fraulein Schultz."

His strong form straightens and Eva struggles to remember what they had been talking about. The mysterious man, who _still_ has not introduced himself, relieves her of the task, however…

"So, your father hosts a ball for this Colonel Landa, yet you can't stand the man even by reputation. Did you not mention this small grievance to your father?" He takes a swig of champagne.

"No. My father worships Landa. He thinks he is brilliant and is eager for us to meet. I did not want to disrespect him."

"A good thing, I hear Colonel Landa is a volatile man. If your father were to make your distaste known, Landa might consider you a threat to the Nazi agenda. He might hunt you down…" the man teases.

Eva laughs, admiring the little wrinkles that frame officer's eyes as he smiles. _And,_ _God, those dimples_…"I had not thought of it that way. Not a problem though, not when I have you to protect me…" she says boldly.

"Do you dare flirt with a ranking officer, who is more than twice you age Fraulein Schultz?" The man's voice is cold and his smile is replaced by a penetrating glare.

Eva takes in a shaky breath, confused by his abrupt change in manner. "I, I'm-um, I only…"

The man continues to stare, his eyes seeming to penetrate every thought she ever had. Again, she shivers involuntarily but is unable to break away from his hypnotic and terrifying scrutiny.

"Haha! Do not worry, Eva..." The charmer is back in his eyes when he winks at her, and she giggles hysterically from relief. "Do not worry, my dear. I tease rough. Your secret is safe with me-"

"HANS! Hans Landa, you dog! You have met my dear daughter already??? Are you keeping Hans all to yourself Eva?" Karl Schultz shouts from the doorway, swaying where he stands.

"Hans Landa…?" Eva breathes, searching the Jew Hunter's face anxiously.

The man sinks into a low bow, his eyes playful. "At your service, Fraulein."

***The line "I tease rough" is taken directly from the film and does not belong to me. Please R&R. Landa is more menacing, I know, don't worry I'll get there. Christoph Waltz is hot, I know, don't worry...I'll get there too! This is my very first fic, so please-by all means, be constructive. But be gentle as well! Please review! Even if only to say one word!**


	2. Kapitel Zwei

****Once again, I do not own any of Tarantino's fantastic characters, and I hope he doesn't begrudge me, my poor imitation of their genius. Bon Appetit!***

"Hans Landa…?" Eva breathes, searching the Jew Hunter's face anxiously.

The man sinks into a low bow, his eyes playful. "At your service, Fraulein."

Her father is shouting again in his delighted and drunken way, but she cannot hear him above the fierce hammering of her heart. She has forgotten how to move--how to breathe and blink. Her feet are rooted to the floor and her eyes are fixed to Landa's face, the torchlight dances in his unreadable eyes.

"…What say you, Eva? My God, Landa, what did you to to her? Eva? Eva, have you lost your tongue…?" Karl chuckles and the trio slips into an uneasy silence.

Colonel Landa breaks the spell, and turns to Karl, "I don't know what happened, I assure you she was quite the chatterbox only moments ago…"

Eva winces at the subtle venom in his voice and struggles to keep from hyperventilating. _I have been insulting one of Germany's highest commanding officers to his face! Papa will die of embarrassment when he finds out!_ Her thoughts are cut short when her father waves a hand in her face.

"EVA? Are you with us?" Karl whispers in Landa's ear, "Hans, you must teach me that little trick, stunning women into silence! Hah!"

Colonel Landa gives a pleasant, low laugh that washes over Eva like velvet, waking her from her reverie.

"I'm sorry Papa. I'm only a little tired. I'll retire, please excuse--"

"Nonsense! It is not yet midnight, and you have not danced with our fine Colonel!" Karl booms grabbing his daughter's hand and placing it in Landa's.

Her face is hot and she prays that the Colonel cannot see the blush that is raging there. Her hand trembles, but his is steady and she relishes in its strength. Landa raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, "Eva, would you care to--"

"Yes!" she blurts out, biting her check in humiliation. Landa merely clicks his tongue in amusement, gives Karl the slightest of bows and leads the young woman into the house.

She struggles to mirror his graceful stride and perfect posture. Until now, she never appreciated the way a uniform accentuates a man's body…the lean strength of his chest and arms, the length of his legs…

"Eva you are going to have to focus on me now…"

"Hmm, what?" She _was _focusing on him, a little too much. She hadn't even noticed him speaking to her.

"The waltz? Does it suit you?"

She is surprised to find that they are in the middle of the dance floor, the only stationary couple, and attracting a fair amount of attention.

"Wha—Oh, yes! The waltz. Yes, that's--"

But before she has even finished speaking, he places a burning hand at the small of her back and slaps her hand on his strong shoulder. The waltz picks up speed…"We are going to have to get a teensy bit closer." He pulls her violently to him, their chests and pelvises collide. She closes her eyes, and tries to calm her heaving breast. They are silent while he leads her expertly around the dance floor. She wonders if there is anything this man _cannot_ do well.

"Still speechless, are we?" Landa is the cold man again, his eyes are hard and unforgiving.

"Everyone is staring," Eva mouths, suddenly anxious to be away from his grip. He says nothing, but pulls her even closer to him. She is sure her thin dress will burst into flame where their bodies touch. "I—I'm sorry for the things I said…about you…on the balcony."

"Are you?" his cool breath washes over face, making her shiver yet again. "Isit not the truth of what you feel about me."

"I don't know any more…except, except that you are a liar," she spits at him defiantly.

He stops their dance suddenly, his nails digging into the soft flesh of her lower back. "Me, a liar? Pray Fraulein? How is it that I lied to you?" Landa growls shaking her and picking up their dance quicker than he'd stopped it.

"By omission!" she hisses, matching his zeal and speed of the dance. "You led me to believe you were some common officer, and not the Colonel you are! You betrayed my trust before we even knew each other's names!"

A muscle twitches in his jaw and and his hand tightens around hers. The shadow is back in his eyes, there is no mistaking it this time. "You must learn to avoid putting me in a passion, or I shall--" he whispers with frightening intensity.

"Or what?" Eva swallows hard trying to banish her very real fear. "Or what, Colonel Landa? Do you deny your earlier conduct?"

A painfully seductive smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Eva tries to make sense of the conflicted thoughts ripping through her mind. "You are shaking," Landa states simply.

"Well, you make me feel…why do you make me feel so…?" she doesn't know quite how to finish and the thought trails off into silence.

"Hmm…Touché."

He offers no further explanation and they continue to twirl, slowing the pace now. His glare is so penetrating, she feels she might faint if something doesn't happen soon.

As if to answer her prayer, the song ends and the room applauds the orchestra. They turn back to one another. "Well, Fraulein Schultz thank you for the dance. It was…_stimulating_."

Eva only swallows hard again, not sure of what to say. Landa gives one of his quiet laughs and kisses her hand. She stares intently at the place he kissed, surprised that her hand is not a pile of ashes. He breaks her silent contemplation when he places a gentle hand at the base of her skull and ever so slowly brings her face to his, planting a sweet, light kiss on her lips. "Gute Nacht." His lips brush against hers as he speaks, sending lightning bolts down her spine.

Then he is gone. Eva struggles to see which way he went, but the room is spinning as though he were leading her still. Everyone around her continues to dance and talk, clearly oblivious to their little exchange. She searches frantically for him and spots her father instead. "Papa!" She croaks hoarsely, running to her father's side "Papa! The Colonel…which way did he go?"

"I don't know Eva…leave him be! You aren't the only girl who wants a dance with him!"

She rolls her eyes and abandons her father as a lost cause. Desperately, she races out the front door and shudders at the considerable drop in temperature. She recognizes the Colonel's handsome shoulders as he moves to accept his keys from the valet.

"COLONEL!" she cries, her high heels slipping on the loose gravel of the circular driveway. "Colonel Landa!" She nearly tackles him with the momentum of her pursuit, slamming their bodies into the side of the car. "Ooof," she groans, whereas he only laughs, helping her to straighten up.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Hans." She apologizes sincerely, trying to catch her breath "I don't know why, but I seem to say the wrong--"

"Say it again," he demands in his steely voice.

"I'm sorry." She pants.

"Not that part…the last bit."

She wrinkles her forehead in confusion, "Hans?"

With a growl he lifts her off her feet and spins her so that her back is up against the ice-cold car door. "Hans," she repeats, enjoying the way his name tastes in her mouth, wondering idly how _he_ tastes. He kisses her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks and he has to support her weight when he suckles gently at her throat.

"Mmm…Hans." She never wants to say anything else again.

"Shhh!" Landa growls menacingly, placing a finger on her lips. He looks in her eyes and watches their languid expression melt into confusion as his hand leaves her mouth and wraps securely around her throat. "I told you to avoid putting me in a passion…" he whispers huskily.

Then his mouth is on hers, crushing yet gentle and sinfully delicious. His lips caress hers and she parts her lips to gasp. She feels his smile against her lips and moans when he releases her neck and his thumb brushes over her silk covered nipple. He responds with another growl and allows his tongue to trace her bottom lip. Eva is sure she will pass out from light-headedness, when his warm body is replaced with cool night air. She whimpers in disappointment and opens her eyes reluctantly. His eyes are bright, but he is otherwise composed…like always.

"Hmmm, It's late." He says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Eva's ear.

"No, it's not," she breathes, trying to wrap herself around him again.

"Please Eva. You do realize we are in your father's driveway?" He admonishes, those fantastic dimples etched in his face.

"So…?" she shrugs.

Landa laughs heartily, and takes several seconds to regain his calm. "So, that's not exactly my style. Tea tomorrow? I will send a car for you around 4:00 pm."

"I suppose," she huffs.

"Wundebar! Till tomorrow, then." He kisses her again, this time slowly and soothingly.

"Gute Nacht," she chokes as he climbs into his car. He winks at her through the window and speeds off down the driveway.

He watches her small form shrink in his rearview mirror and smiles to himself. _Definitely not your average party,_ he muses, and cranks down the windows to let the cool night air through his hair.

** "You must learn to avoid putting me in a passion, or I shall really murder you some time." Is a line from Wuthering Heights and does not belong to me. Please R&R! I want to know that I'm not putting all of you to sleep! As I mentioned before, this is my first fic, so criticism would be greatly appreciated!**


	3. Kapitel Drei

****Once again, I do not own any of Tarantino's fantastic characters, and I hope he doesn't begrudge me, my poor imitation of their genius. Bon Appetit!***

"Eva?" The question floats on the morning air, failing to stir the young woman from her thoughts.

"Hmm…?" she replies vacantly, sipping her coffee and drumming her fingers on the polished surface of the table.

"Pay her no mind Elfriede, the Colonel has bewitched our daughter…quite an improvement over the usual chatter, I think," her father taunts through bites of toast.

"If only the Colonel could convince you to refrain from talking with your mouth full, Papa…"

"HAH! Oh very clever…He has not silenced you permanently, I see. Easily remedied, I'm sure--"

"Is that the paper?" she cuts her father off, reaching over to grab the morning issue.

"Ja, you'll find it very interesting no doubt…"

Scowling at her father, she takes the paper and unfolds it to be faced with a rather large photograph of the Colonel himself. Conscious of her father's eyes on her, she struggles to keep her face composed but reads the cover story as quickly as she can. Feeling sick to her stomach, she sets the paper down and walks over to the coffee bar. With her back turned to her parents she queries quietly, "When did this happen?"

"When did what happen? Oh, the Dreyfuses? He discovered them the week before last, I think. Landa only just returned from France yesterday. Why, what ever did you think last night's little fete was for?"

"I didn't know that was how it happened. I didn't realize he was capable of such…such…" the sentence dies in her throat and is replaced with a rage.

"Such what? Such heroism? That family had been eluding capture for months! For MONTHS! And Landa gets the job done in a single day! The Führer is lucky to have stumbled upon a detective so efficient."

"Efficient, indeed!"

"What is the meaning of this, Eva! You will not disrespect Colonel Landa! Not in my home--"

"FINE!," she blurts, shaking with anger. "I'll go for a walk then! Excuse me!"

She throws open the glass doors and races out into the garden, immediately regretting her lack of a coat.

_How could she have been so stupid? 'The Jew Hunter'! For all of his manners and charisma, he was still a murdering fiend. He was a fiend two weeks ago, he was one last night…and he is most certainly one today! _

_But are not those his most intriguing qualities…his intelligence and power? _

_NO! Men can be great without resorting to barbarism! Landa is and always will be: a violent, pig-headed, unimaginative--"_

"Eva."

Only one voice could have wiped her mind of such frantic thinking, and only one voice could overwhelm her in the same instant.

"Eva." Landa says again, this time sounding impatient. "Eva, please, I am not a man who is accustomed to waiting…"

She inhales deeply but does not turn to face the cause of her turmoil. "Guten Morgen, Herr Oberst."

"Herr Oberst…," he whispers. "And not even Colonel Landa…I thought we had dispensed with the formalities _Fraulein Schultz…"_

"Why are you here Colonel?"

His eyes narrow at her tone and he approaches, stopping close enough for her to smell him. Gun powder, warm leather, eucalyptus and spearmint.

"The Fuhrer asked me to deliver certain sensitive documents to your father personally. And your father told me you were out here…"

"Hmph…Death warrants?"

"Wie bitte?"

"The documents," she hisses through chattering teeth, looking at him over her shoulder, "are they death warrants--your Fuhrer's documents?"

"They are sensitive. And no concern of yours!" Landa retorts, growing tired of her tedious attitude.

"Hah. That's right…you don't need any warrants. You may shoot at families under floorboards as you please. Isn't that correct Herr Oberst?"

"Enough!" Landa whispers with such finality, he may as well have yelled at her.

She continues to stare ahead, refusing to look him in the face. She hears him shrug out of his leather overcoat.

"Now, put this on. You'll catch your death," he orders.

She reluctantly allows him to guide her arms through the warm sleeves. He grabs her shoulders roughly, turns her body to face him, lifting the collar so as to protect her exposed neck.

"There." He says simply. Eva stares at her shoes, still shaking from cold and anger. "Now what, may I ask, is the cause of this rush of righteous indignation?" Eva shrugs, saying nothing.

Landa exhales, and tilts her chin up to face him with a single gloved finger. "Eva, I rarely ask twice…" she looks to his eyes at last and sees only calculation. He stares back and sees: anger, yes…but something else too…Shame, perhaps?

"Is this really about the Dreyfuses?" he asks softly, tracing her jaw-line with his index finger. Her eyes begin to glisten and he captures her chin in his thumb and forefinger. "I must warn you Eva, it would be unwise to lie to me."

"Yes…and no. Both. It puts knots in my stomach, the story of the Dreyfuses. It sickens me, that they were just tossed out like garbage. And you-you may as well have pulled the trigger. Why could they not go to a camp, or be shipped out of country?"

"Eva, do you honestly think the camps are any better? A nice little holiday for the Jews…hmm? It doesn't matter if I intern them or order them shot…they are dead. The Fuhrer sent me to France to round up the Jews in hiding. I did! This is what I do! End of story! It is foolish to think a young girl such as yourself could ever understand the complexities and art of war."

"Foolish? And what of the value of human life? Even Jews are human!" she counters, smacking his hand away.

"That depends on who you ask, I think.," Landa argues quietly. "But please, continue with your explanation…"

"I…well…It's just…I don't even know you! I mean, what _was_ that last night. I haven't the slightest idea of who you are. Clearly…we are not of like minds! I mean…last night was one thing, when we were both full of champagne and cloaked in night fall…But, I'm not that girl! I can't--"

Landa raises a hand and Eva's rant fizzles in her throat.

"It was a kiss, Fraulein, not a marriage proposal! And certainly not a proposition! I invited you to tea, not my bed chamber…flattered though I am by your panic."

"Oh," she says clearly caught off guard. "But you...I mean, we…"

"We kissed, Fraulein, and very well I might add. But it was only a kiss. I have no immediate plans to steal your virtue, so there is no need to entertain the notion any further."

"Oh."

"You look disappointed…"

"No. Umm, no I'm not disappointed. I'm just glad that we see eye to eye on something…" She busies herself with rolling the cuffs on Landa's jacket. "Who ever said I was virtuous?" she asks suddenly, unable to stop herself.

Landa tilts his head and fights back the urge to smile. "Please Eva. I have exposed more skilled liars than you…let us not indulge that particular charade."

"You don't know _everything, _you know," she quips.

"Don't I?" Again a delicious smile threatens at his mouth. Eva feels some of the dizziness that plagued her last night as she struggles to answer him appropriately.

"Oh! You are an impossible man! Arrogant, rude, foul, manipulative…"

"I have been called worse before, believe me…"

"And yet you continue to traipse about, spreading your insidiousness…"

"Well, I am sorry to have offended you…old habits die hard, you see."

"Yes, I do. I see perfectly!"

"Am I to understand that you no longer desire to have tea this afternoon."

She exhales, frustrated at his ability to confuse her so effectively. "No. I still wish to meet with you…" she admits in a small voice.

"Good," he gloats. "I have some things to take care of but I will send a car for you as planned. One more thing Eva…"

"Yes, Hans?" she asks, looking down once more, though the use of his first name is not lost on either of them.

"Would you like me to kiss you?

Her head snaps up and her stomach drops. She stares at his lips and licks her own involuntarily. Abandoning all caution, she nods her head once.

He closes the distance between them in an instant and places a chaste kiss on her waiting mouth. "Auf Wieder--" Landa's goodbye is lost as she grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls him in for another kiss. He needs no further encouragement and moves his mouth so slowly and magnificently with hers, that she is soon gasping for breath.

"I have to go." He steps back, thoroughly entertained with her attempt at regaining her wits. "You really are rather stunning like this you know!"

She jerks her head up to give him a piece of her mind, only to watch his back as he retreats to the house. _Coward, _she thinks, _Miserable Coward! _She traces her lips absently, realizes this, and blushes a shade that no one will see…though she has no doubt he can feel it all the same!

****Thank you to all of the glourious reviewers! Your advice was very helpful! I reigned the sexual energy in a bit, I know. Tell me what you think. Please Review!****


	4. Kapitel Vier

****NOTE: I JUST POSTED AN ALTERNATE ENDING TO CHAPTER THREE. I THINK IT IS LESS JARRING, AND BETTER SUITS THE CHARCTERS. CHAPTER FOUR READS LOGICALLY WITH BOTH VERSIONS, THOUGH I STRONGLY RECOMMEND READING THE NEW END, AS IT WILL FLOW BETTER. **

**Again, I regrettably do not own any of Tarantino's fantastic characters, and I hope he doesn't begrudge me my poor imitation of their genius. Bon Appetit!****

"Wait here." The stern looking Private motions sharply to the room ahead and clicks his heels as Eva passes him and admires the elaborate study. "The Standartenführer will be with you shortly. He requests that you make yourself at home."

"Danke Sch--" but the Private has already closed the heavy doors and Eva is left alone, but for the crackling of the fire in the handsome hearth. She feels her pulse quicken and shakes her head to clear her mind. In an attempt to busy herself she begins to examine the study, looking for clues as to the character of the enigma that is Hans Landa. The first thing she notices is the room's rich color; the walls decked in luxurious geometric patterns of burgundy, deep blue and forest green. Upon approaching the wall, she cannot help but gasp at her revelation…

Books.

Hundreds and hundreds of books nestled in the walls, stretching from the floor to the impressive vaulted ceiling. So many books, they appear as intricate tapestry from afar. She reaches out and runs a hand reverently along the vibrant spines, smiling at the whispering sound. She turns her head and squints, curious about the titles in his collection…her mouth turns down when she realizes she cannot read them. The titles are not in German…not a single one. Intrigued as to what language Landa would be so fluent in, she removes a slender volume and pries it open.

"See anything you like?" he is suddenly behind her, his breath tickling her ear.

"OH!" Eva jumps violently and whips around to face him, the book flies from her hand, landing with a muted thud on the soft rug. "Hans…you startled me."

"Hmm. Apparently so." He takes a step back, palms up, in a gesture of innocence.

Blushing, Eva scrambles to replace the edition and faces him, her back flush with the panel of books. She clutches her chest and clears her throat nervously.

Landa merely watches her, his eyes amused, and offers nothing else. The fire emits a particularly loud "POP" and Eva jumps again.

"Is something the matter, Fraulein Schultz?"

"N-No. I am perfectly well, thank you. And you, Colonel Landa, have you won the war since this morning?" she huffs, immediately regretting mentioning the source of their earlier discourse.

True to his flawless form, Landa shrugs, "Nearly…But please Eva, you were perusing my books. Do not stop on my account." He flicks his chin, inviting her to continue her investigation.

"I would…but I do not know the language…"

"Ah! Of course! Yes. This room is French, how silly of me!" he muses, shaking his head humbly.

"Entschuldigung…but did you just say: _this_ room is French?"

"Ja. The sitting room is Italian, my room is English, the study--" he waves at the walls nonchalantly, "is French…and the library is a mixture of the aforementioned and, of course, German."

She blinks in shock. "And you can read all three foreign tongues fluently?"

"And write…and speak. But this is uninteresting…Tea?" Landa deflects, shrugging again.

"I beg to differ Colonel Landa, this is _very_ interesting! 'The Jew Hunter' has a manor full of books…" she says with awe.

"I am sorry to disappoint. I will be sure to set out the medieval torture devices the _next _time you visit my home."

Some of the residual awkwardness from their morning tiff begins to ebb and Eva realizes she finds the prospect of returning quite pleasant. "I couldn't be any less disappointed. I am so impressed I can hardly speak…"

"Yes. And there are those who wonder if I have 'a single fiber of culture in my murderous body.'" He replies quietly, his eyes boring into hers as he hands her a small cup.

Her breath hitches in her throat at his reference to the previous night's insults. She accepts the cup and allows him to steer her to a comfortable chair in the center of the room. She watches him warily as he pours himself a glass of milk, and sets it atop the fine writing table opposite her chair. Leaning casually, _yet imposingly_, against the desk--he resumes his silent scrutiny.

For what seems an eternity, they listen to the shifting logs, cracks and pronounced sound of Eva's breathing.

"So, was jetzt Fraulein? Hmm? What now?" he asks finally, his voice cutting the silence like a knife.

"I haven't the slightest idea, Colonel Landa."

"Well…it would appear that we have made _quite_ a mess of things in less than twenty-four hours." He states dryly.

Eva's face flushes for what is probably the thousandth time, due to this man's attentions.

"Hmm, no contest, then? I thought not." He winks at her and drains the entire glass of milk in a single gulp. "Cigarette? No? Very well." He lights a cigarette, strides over to the chair next to Eva's, and sits gracefully. "Now, I've been thinking Eva…and, _yes,_ I've been thinking of you rather often…There are two things that I know to be true. One: You and I don't get along very well. Two: I find that I _like_ it that way. It occurs to me that I would _prefer_ you to have your own views of the war, and of me. I think it is a delicious twist, and sure to be the source of exquisite fun!" He flicks his cigarette daintily over the ashtray for punctuation, and clears his throat.

"That being said, I have no intention of abandoning my military duties, nor do I have any immediate plans of going without your company. So, this is what I propose. We will meet once a day, as we are now…and we will attempt to come to a civil understanding of one another. You may tell your parents you are at the library, as that is practically a truth," he chuckles, with a grand gesture to his books, "you will not deign to lie to your loving parents. Is this agreeable?"

Eva nods slowly, giving him a small smile.

"Wonderful. This way we can go back to the beginning, if you will, and become acquainted with less…_fire_. Not that I didn't enjoy it the first time around…" he concludes mischievously and looks at her expectantly.

"Hmm. I suppose that means no kissing, then?" Eva asks.

"That, my dear, depends entirely on you. For my part, I intend to be only honest and follow your lead."

"You get the easy job! But I suppose I can accept your terms. Shall we shake on it?"

"If you would prefer."

"I would."

Landa stands and helps Eva to her feet. They shake. His grip is strong and Eva pushes distracting thoughts to the back of her mind. It is with great effort, however, as his familiar scent invades her senses…so clean yet irresistibly masculine.

"And am I allowed to kiss the fair Fraulein's hand, in honour of our new accord?"

"That is permissible." Eva smiles, unable to hold it in any longer.

His eyes never leave her face as he places a scorching kiss to the sensitive flesh on her hand. She holds her breath, willing herself to keep from melting where she stands.

"I must say, Fraulein Schultz," he hums with a look of pure sin in his eyes, "this is going to be very amusing."

"Perhaps," she dismisses, relishing in denying him her surrender.

He raises an eyebrow and begins to applaud her dramatically. "Bravo…you _almost _convinced me!"

"I'll have to work on it a bit more…I'll get better."

"I have no doubt of it Eva…" Landa traces her cheekbone with the back of his hand, and she has to clench her teeth to keep from leaning into his touch.

"Well…good afternoon then. Maybe, tomorrow you can show me around the estate?"

He drops his hand, a knowing look smoldering in his eyes. "Ja, Natürlich. It is not so grand as your parents home, but I would be delighted to."

"Lovely. Until tomorrow. Thank you for the tea." She makes her way to the heavy doors but is yanked backward before her hand reaches the knob. Strong fingers clamp painfully around her wrist and pull her alarmingly close to the Colonel's body. Landa brings her hand to rest on his chest, but does not relinquish her wrist, which continues to scream in protest.

"Would you really leave without bidding me farewell properly?" He murmurs seductively in her ear.

Eva reminds herself to breathe, while he leans in even further, pressing his nose to her neck and inhaling. She releases a shaky breath and musters up what little resolve she has left. "Don't be absurd Hans! I bid you good afternoon only moments ago…whatever do you mean?"

He smiles against her racing pulse and a sound of approval emits from deep within his throat. He pulls back to stare at her face, wearing the viperous expression she so fears. "You are better already."

"Practice makes perfect."

*****Ok, so this was my final attempt to try to salvage this thing! Let me know if you think I should scrub it or continue in this style. I feel much better about this chapter, hopefully I've patched it up in time. To all of the generous reviewers, please tell me your thoughts once more. Your advice and encouragement has been invaluable to me!*****


	5. Kapitel Fünf

****Again, I regrettably do not own any of Tarantino's fantastic characters, and I hope he doesn't begrudge me my poor imitation of their genius. Bon Appetit!****

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty…."

Slowly, her leaden eyelids unlock and a hazy silhouette is revealed. She cannot see the speaker's face, only the shape of a man haloed in the afternoon sunlight--but there is no mistaking that voice..._his_ voice…

"Am I here already?" she rasps, blinking to render herself more alert.

He leans further into the car and extricates her without the slightest effort. "So it would seem," Landa answers, taking her arm and leading her up the walkway to the house.

Once they cross the threshold, he takes her coat and hands it to the austere Private she recognizes from the day before. Landa motions for her to continue down the corridor, but does not take her arm again.

"Had I known you found our little chats so soporific, I never would've invited you," he teases as they walk.

"Hah! Yes, if only our encounters were more engaging!" she retorts sarcastically. "I haven't been sleeping well, and that car of yours is simply too comfortable."

"Nightmares?"

"No," she mutters, reluctant to elaborate.

"Well, what then?" he prods.

"It's nothing," she brushes off.

He stops walking; the echo of their footsteps dies immediately and is replaced with a ringing silence. She has to turn back to face him and heaves a sigh. Without even needing to look him in the face she can feel it…_that look_. The inescapable _look_ that demands truth and promises ultimate submission.

"Must you do that? If I wanted to tell you, I would have." She says to the stone floor, sounding braver than she actually feels.

"Well, _I _am too acclimatized to getting the answers _I _want. Comes with the territory, I'm afraid."

She sighs again and explains all in one breath: "There's just too much!...To think about, I mean…I can hardly lay still! My mind whirrs relentlessly, mulling over the same things over and over again and morning dawns before I can really even close my eyes! I haven't slept a full night since we met…"

The Colonel nods mutely. "But you were sleeping soundly a moment ago, at any rate."

"Well, I guess a girl can only take so much sleep deprivation…"

"If you'd like, we can certainly let you sleep and try again tomorrow--"

"What? But I've only just arrived! I'm not going home! No! That won't be necessary."

"Very well, be sure to warn me _before_ you pass out…we wouldn't want you hitting your head, now, would we?

"Where are you taking me first?" she asks, ignoring his little jab.

"Firstly, it's a surprise…don't try to spoil it. Secondly, I'm not _taking _you anywhere. That would be absurd--considering it is the door to my left."

"Oh. I thought you stopped only to brow-beat me."

"No, it just happened to work out so conveniently," he smirks slyly, throwing the door open. He stands aside and allows her to pass.

"Hah…" Eva claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a bubble of laughter. "This is the…?"

"The library, yes."

The word 'Library' hardly qualifies as an accurate description of the decadence before her. A monstrously vast, circular room, lined in shelves, as the study had been, sprawls before her. Surprisingly it is not the books, but the light that dazzles Eva this time. She squints up at the ceiling, made almost entirely of baroque stained glass and watches dust motes float lazily through the multi-colored shafts of light.

"How many?"

"In this room? Two thousand or so…" he answers, needing no further explanation.

She barely hears his answer though, distracted as she is by the seemingly random object in the dead center of the room. She walks to over to it, as if by magnetism, and drags her fingers over the warm keys of the massive grand piano.

"So beautiful…" she muses to herself, sitting at the bench.

"Do you play?" Landa asks from the doorway, where he has been observing her reaction.

"A little. Papa's has been out of tune for ages. It has been some time since last I played and I'd rather not embarrass myself any further just yet."

"You are more than welcome to play any of my piano's as much or as little as you desire. There are two more in the conservatory, this one wouldn't fit, hence the make-shift placement." He explains. "Would you like some tea?"

"Actually, I am quite content…unless you would?"

No answer.

Landa's graceful reflection shimmers on the highly polished surface of the piano as he approaches and sits next to her on the bench. There is a defined three inches of space between them, but Eva swears she can feel the weight of his arm and leg against hers...a tingling, phantom warmth.

"May I ask you something, Eva…" his polite request sets the little tingles ablaze and she nods in permission.

"What is it like? This? With a man so much older than you…you cannot be more than twenty-one years of age?"

"Twenty," she breathes, "I'm twenty." Her heart throbs painfully in her chest, this was the last thing she was expecting. "You really _are_ quite the detective, Hans!" she parries, her eyes wide.

"So they tell me…" He stares ahead lapsing into silence once more.

"It's like…I don't know. I honestly don't. And that scares me. I've only known you for a few days. Every day is different, so I never feel like I'm getting ahead. I worry about your job. I worry that I won't be able to accept the things you do…then, I worry that I _will _be able to, and what that implies about me. I feel guilty because I find your legacy to be so repulsive…yet I cannot deny this—this: _fit_. Sometimes it feels so natural to be around you, and then others…

"I won't be changing my mind, Eva; about my duties or my convictions. I don't apologize for my work and I never will."

"I'm not suggesting you do…I--I can't articulate it properly…"

"I see. I was merely curious…there isn't a right or wrong answer."

She nods in understanding and realizes that she feels relieved…As if merely voicing her indecision had alleviated some the burden.

"May I ask _you_ something Hans?"

"You may ask, and I may choose to answer respectively…"

"What is it like?"

"With a twenty year old…exhausting!" he grins.

"Ha ha." Eva answers dryly. "But that is not--"

"I know what you meant. Are you quite sure you care to analyze this particular question today?" he cautions, his tone teetering on the edge of testiness.

"Why prolong the inevitable, and why waste the time?"

He gives her his eyes for the first time, since sitting at the bench. "It is liberating, but at the same time it is only a job. It is simply an exercise of the mind. I notice details, expose falsities and gather clues. The Führer gives me an assignment and I carry it out. I do not concern myself with the dramatics of the situation; it is too banal. This frightens people because I am good at it…but it is no different than assembling a jig-saw puzzle."

"How can you say that, when you hold a human's life in your hands? You choose to either actively take that life, or else allow it to be taken. How is that a merely a puzzle? Don't you have trouble sleeping?"

"No." He says without hesitating. "Never. Does that disgust you?" His question stings like a fresh paper cut and she chooses her words carefully...

"It is difficult for me to comprehend. I don't understand how you can sit here, in a room that so poignantly celebrates the fruits of human life, and disregard life itself. Jewish or not…"

"Because it's not about that, it's--"

A fierce rap at the door cuts his sentence off. The severe looking Private steps into the room, brandishing a piece of paper.

"Entschuldigung, Herr Oberst und Fraulein Schultz. There is an urgent telegram from Herr Schultz."

"Give it to me." They wait while Landa's eyes scour the paper. "Alert, Müller and tell the others to wait for my instruction. NOW!" The soldier hurries out of the room, and Landa begins pacing furiously.

"What? What is it? What does my father say? Does he know that I lied about where I am?" Eva pleads anxiously.

"Riots. Riots in France. Nothing serious. Just some resistance to the occupation. I must leave immediately! Dietrich will drive you home. I will call you when I return to Germany. Forgive me, I must leave." He begins to take a step toward her, but stops midway. He turns on his heel and walks out of the room without looking back.

She sits dumbfounded at the piano, feeling mocked by the room itself. He hadn't touched her since helping her out of the car, not once. She wonders if she imagined his interest in her, and feels like a traitor in wanting him to come back, to hold her.

And yet they had been in the middle of an argument…does the present crisis negate that? Part of her screams a resounding NO, while the other part begs YES! She sits there, surrounded by his books and bathed in the glittering colored light, feeling more confused and alone then ever.

***Ok, my dear comrades…I know it is awful of me to ask for your thoughts yet AGAIN. But if you have the time…you all know how I adore and appreciate reviews! **


	6. Kapitel Sechs

****I do not own Quentin's epic character, please don't sue me Mr. Tarantino!****

Seventeen days.

Seventeen days have passed since Landa hurried off to France with her father in tow, and still no word--aside from media coverage. She worries that the resistance movement had been underestimated and that her father and Landa stand in very real danger.

The weather has taken a sour turn since Landa's departure, doing little to put her at ease. She gazes out the sitting room window and watches rain drops hit and roll down, clearing delicate pathways in the fogged glass.

"Too gloomy to go the library again, dear?" her mother queries, without looking up from her needlework.

Eva runs her index finger down the icy glass, tracing the progress of a particularly large droplet. "I do wish Papa would wire us at the very least…" she repeats for the hundredth time, deftly avoiding her mother's question.

"No news is good news," her mother reassures, glancing up at her daughter's profile. "Your father is simply busy, I wouldn't worry too much, darling. I spoke with Herr Stolz this morning and he anticipates your father's return very soon. Sometime in the next few days even…"

Eva bites her lip, considering asking for news of the Colonel, but decides against it and turns to her mother without comment.

"Relax Eva. I have never known you to be so tense…"

"I'm sorry. It's just this weather…and the house is so quiet! I'm restless, is all." She apologizes wrapping her arms around herself. Her mother gives her a soothing smile, which Eva returns half-heartedly. She leans against the cold window listening to the clock tick, willing her skin to stop prickling with uncertainty.

Thirty seconds pass before she gives up and announces she is going to bed.

"It is not even dark out, Eva," her mother remarks suspiciously.

"I know," she replies impatiently, "but I'm tired and I want to read for a while."

"Very well, dear. But do not let yourself be troubled…your father will be home soon."

The girl nods absently and leaves the room, glad to be out of her mother's watchful eye. Eva doesn't want to admit that it is not _necessarily _her father whom she's thinking of…not even to herself. As she makes the slow ascent to the second floor she inwardly scolds herself for allowing Landa to penetrate her thoughts so often. That man is annoyingly ever-present in her mind! She scarcely recognizes herself anymore…she wasn't always this moody and emotional. Something about 'The Jew Hunter' unsettles her, and she doesn't like it…or does she? The jury's still out.

A few hours later, Eva is distracted from her book by an audible disturbance from downstairs. Loud voices drift up to her, though she cannot discern who is speaking. Unable to contain her curiosity, she sets the book down, and leaps from her bed. Fastening her dressing gown and slipping into some house shoes hastily, she follows the sound of voices.

Flying silently down the two flights of marble stairs, she pauses at the dinning room, clutching the doorframe, to catch her breath.

"PAPA! She squeals with delight when she spots _both_ of her parents, seated at the table, effectively interrupting their conversation.

"Hello, my darling!"

She all but runs over to him and hugs him tightly. "Careful, little one, I am rain-soaked." Herr Schultz says too late, trying to disentangle their limbs.

"Here, let me help you out of your coat Papa," she laughs, noticing finally that he was still in his weather-ware, having clearly just arrived.

"As I was saying," Herr Schultz says to his wife after they are all seated, "If Hans had not been there, it would've been a bloodbath, Elfriede. Many lucky Germans have Hans to thank for their lives! I begged him to come in for a nightcap, but he refused, humble as ever."

"Colonel Landa was here?" Eva exclaims without thinking.

"He was kind enough to escort me home, insisting on sharing a car with me," her father replies with a twinkle in his eye.

Eva blushes at her lack of subtlety and stands abruptly. "Well, Gute Nacht Papa…I am so glad you're home." She kisses her father and sweeps from the room her brain buzzing with questions.

_Why hadn't Landa come in? Did he not realize how rude it was, to abandon a guest and not bother to update said guest in over two weeks! If he had come in, she would've given him a piece of her mind! Two and a half weeks without a single cable or letter. The audacity!_

She walks the hallways without a specific destination in mind and wishes she _could _say these things to his face. But she would never be able to get a car at this hour, and especially not without arousing the suspicion of her parents.

A wildly irrational idea comes to her mind and she savors the feeling of committing to it immediately, without regard to its preposterous nature. Doubling back, she slips out onto the balcony, shivering at the wall of rain and cold that meets her. Careful not to slip on the wet marble, she flits across the wide platform and takes the narrow staircase down to the yard below. It is raining hard now, and she can barely see the feeble old gas light of the stables a few yards in the distance.

She runs full-force, happy to expel her pent up energy and warm her body at the same time. She is relieved to reach the sanctuary of the barn and wrenches the creaking door open with a shivering hand. It is surprisingly warm in the barn, but she forces herself to focus on the task at hand. Grabbing her thick riding cloak from the stand and shoving her feet in her riding boots, she smiles at her own recklessness.

She prays that Landa is indeed at his home and not on the road back to France, as she bridles her horse and swings her leg up the saddle. She'll regret this in the morning…but that is hours away…

She heaves a sigh of relief to see lights on when the house looms closer. Eva tethers her horse to a tree near the entryway, races up the stairs and swings the heavy knocker three times.

Dietrich opens the door promptly, and stares down at Eva, confusion evident on his face.

"Guten Abend," Eva gasps, throwing the cloak's hood back, "I need to see the Colonel, please."

"I am sorry, Fraulein. But Colonel Landa has retired for the evening…he just returned from an arduous journey--"

"I know he has!" she hisses, "Why else would I be here? Please, just let me in for a moment…"

"I'm sorry Fraulein, but he requests not to be disturbed."

"Dietrich! I _will_ see the Colonel tonight!" she demands, surprising even herself. "

Now, either you can restrain me, or let me pass…but I am going to walk through this door now! Is that clear?"

He steps aside for her to pass with a look of shame and degradation.

"Thank you! Where is he?" she asks.

"In his room. I'll announce your arrival--"

"No! I will knock, you won't be responsible…I assure you. Where is his bedroom?"

After listening to Dietrich's directions and removing her boots to prevent tracking mud, she pads barefoot off to find Landa's room. Some of her adrenaline has subsided and she wonders frantically how she'll explain her bizarre behaviour…when she can't even answer that for herself.

She decides to worry about that later, however, and raps lightly on the door Dietrich described. She hears a chair moving, some ruffling noises and his muffled voice, "I thought I made it quite clear--"

The door swings open forcefully and Landa stops mid-sentence, with a rare and authentic look of surprise. He is in uniform as usual, but the decorated jacket hangs completely open and though his shirt remains tucked in to his fitted trousers, the first few buttons are undone; exposing a generous portion of toned his chest.

For a moment they simply stare at one another. Eva is dizzy from the sheer force of his presence. He towers over her making her feel small in the most delectable ways. Seeing him dressed so intimately floods her mind with potent memories of the first night they met. His hands, his jaw-line, his lips…But there is a reason she stormed over here…she just can't remember it right now….

Landa drinks in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. Her flushed cheeks…her shivering shoulders...the glittering raindrops in her wild hair. He can almost hear her heart thumping with such force it is sure to leap from her ribcage. He is pleased to see her so eager…and so dismally failing to hide it.

"My God, Eva! Whatever did you do? Swim here? Come inside, I'll fetch a towel."

He closes the door behind her and disappears into a smaller room, presumably the water closet. She peels the soaking riding cloak off her body and smoothes her hair hastily. She groans when she realizes that she is still wearing her dressing gown and rolls her eyes at her own impatience. Landa returns with a warm towel that smells distinctly of eucalyptus and spearmint, and excuses himself to fetch some tea.

Taking advantage of his absence she looks around the room while towel drying her hair, memorizing every detail. Though very beautiful, his bedroom is markedly more simple than the rest of the house. Like so many other rooms, three of the four walls are lined with books. The fourth wall is pure white, making the dark mahogany headboard jump out. Aside from the large bed, there is little furniture. A small but elegant writing table sits in a corner and there is only the matching chair for a place to sit. The contrast between the dark wood furniture and the light walls and linens gives the room an ordered, clean feeling.

Landa enters the room carrying a tea tray and blanket. Eva watches as he sets the tray atop the desk and pours the tea. He had not bothered to button up his shirt, and she wishes he would, for the sake of her concentration. "I am afraid, this is nothing fancy, I excused the staff for the evening some time ago…but the tea is hot and that should do well enough for now."

He beckons her to him with his index finger and wraps the blanket tightly around her shoulders. He hands her the tea, which she drinks greedily, not caring as it burns her mouth.

She sits on the edge of the bed and sinks into the fluffy comforter as though it were a cloud. Landa leans against the writing desk with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Better?" He asks.

"Much, thank you." She replies…suddenly embarrassed to be in his bedroom. She cringes at the impropriety of the situation, and feels a little guilty for putting him in it.

"So, would you like to tell me why you grace me with your presence at such an hour?"

She had been expecting this, and is ready with an answer. "Because you are back in Berlin, and you did not telephone as you promised!"

"I returned not two hours ago, and I sincerely doubted your family would be pleased if I telephoned at such a time…most people like to sleep, Eva."

"Well, why did you not come into the house when my father invited you?" she asks, hating how whiny she sounds and how much sense he is making.

"Because I assumed you would not be awake and I was exhausted myself…Does that satisfy you, Fraulein Schultz?"

She notices his exhausted posture and realizes how selfish she's been in barging over.

"I'm so sorry Hans. I confess, that I did not consider…well, anything really, when I rushed over here."

"Incidentally, how _did _you travel here?" he asks eyeing her frazzled state.

"By horseback." She blushes.

"HORSEBACK? In _this_ weather? Eva, it is 1941, not 1820! What possessed you to do such a thing?"

She shrugs noiselessly, feeling incredibly foolish.

"Eva, I intended to wire you in the morning…there was no need for you to risk your health to come over here to scold me."

"I know, I wasn't thinking! It's just…we went from seeing each other every day, to not at all…and the last time we saw each other was not the most pleasant...I mean, I didn't want you to believe that just because we argued…_Why_ are you making that face?"

"Because it is so entertaining to watch you attempt to delude yourself," he laughs quietly.

"Delude myself? What?" she asks getting angry.

"You missed me," he states, pointing at her, all the laughter gone from his face. "You missed me, and it burns you to admit it."

She opens and closes her mouth, at a complete loss for words. Landa smirks at her, dimples exploding in his cheeks.

"You are so infuriating!!!" she shrieks. "Of course I missed you…you fool!!! What was I supposed to think, when you ran off to France without so much as a handshake?"

"Lower your voice!" he hisses. "You forget, yourself Fraulein!"

The air rushes from Eva's lungs, at the look on his face. She had done it again…crossed the line and offended this man whom she barely knows. When would she ever learn to hold her tongue?

"Now," he continues coolly, his remote tone chilling her blood, "just because I have not thrown you out, does not give you cause to start hurling incivilities at me! I did not _'run off'_ to France! If you recall, I was sent there to defend the Deutsches Reich! And I didn't 'shake your hand', as you so delicately put it…because we had agreed to place that particular responsibility in _your_ hands. I do not appreciate such imprudent accusations, after I have just returned from an incredibly taxing journey! I am weary, and frankly: my control is wavering. I am being quite honest with you when I say that I may very well strangle you…"

She stares silently back, convinced of the truth in his words. She had lit a match, and could not stop the wildfire from spreading. He is so calm that is scares her even more. For, how can a man regain his senses if he never lost them?

"On the other hand," he says quietly, "I am not _entirely_ disappointed in your conviction to see me tonight. Though I do advise you to tread lightly…I am not as benevolent as I usually am."

She nods in understanding and feels a measure of relief, knowing that she has not damaged things permanently.

Her voice shakes in fear as she does her best to appease him: "You are right," she offers in a small voice. "What you said is true…all of it--"

"Eva, for once, may we _not_ bicker back and forth about who is right or wrong? I am pleased that you are here, but I have no interest in arguing. Do I make myself plain?"

She nods again. "Would you like me to leave?"

"Eva, I am many things…but I am not senseless enough to allow you to test your already battered body. You are staying precisely where you are." He drawls.

"But I can't stay here, Hans! What would people think?" she pleads carefully, doing her best to keep her tone respectful/

"That you foolishly went for a late-night trail ride, got caught in the storm and hopelessly lost…and that I graciously put you up in a spare bedroom. Believe me, when we have to call a doctor tomorrow morning for the fever you will, no doubt, develop; not a single person will question the story."

"For a man who is famous for divulging truth, you are extremely accomplished at fabricating it!" she praises with an uncertain smile.

Landa's eyes soften and her heart leaps with joy. She is forgiven…yet again.

"Where is the spare bedroom?" she asks, feeling more confident.

"You may sleep here, the linens are freshly laundered…and I have no aim to let you out of my sight. You very likely caught cold during your stormy adventure over here and the last thing I need, is the death of my superior's daughter hanging over my head…"

"You do care…" she gushes over-dramatically.

"Hush!" he orders, though he makes no attempt to quell his chuckle.

"But where will you sleep?" she asks, feeling guilt ridden at the thought of depriving the exhausted man of his bed.

"Never you mind! I have work to do…your unexpected visit has put me behind. The water closet is just there," he says gesturing to the small room, "You will find any thing you might need in there. I see that you came prepared, dressed in your night-things…So, it is safe for me to assume that you do not require a change of clothes," he teases, eyeing her dressing robe.

The heat rises in her face, but she feels a rush of gratitude for his quick forgiveness, and decides that it is best not test him.

She climbs over to the head of the bed and slips beneath the billowy comforter. Eva inhales deeply, delighted to be met with the ambrosial fragrance that seems to accompany anything in proximity to the Colonel. He strides over to her and tucks the comforter snugly around her form. He leans over her and extinguishes the light, plunging the room into semidarkness. The small work lamp on the desk is the sole source of light now, and casts a pleasant glow in the corner of the room. He hovers over her, his face highlighted by the dim light. Her heart begins to beat painfully again and she is glad to not have to focus on supporting her weight. He inhales quietly and gazes at her, with his usual unreadable expression. The bed creaks faintly as he leans in, and places a warm, hesitant kiss on her temple. Every nerve in her body sings with triumph.

"Sleep," he mouths hypnotically against her hairline, tickling her. "Sleep…" She tries to fight it, tries to force her eyes to stay open. The last thing she feels is the bed shift as he rises to sit at the desk. She tries to steal one last glance at him, but her eyes will not obey and she falls asleep to the sound of his breathing and his pen, as it floats across the paper.

****It's a bit lengthy, I know. But I hope you guys like it! Tell me your thoughts, friends!****


	7. Kapitel Sieben

****Sorry for the delay for the three of you who still care…haha! This is more of the same…cuddly Landa. So beware those of you who think he is unadulterated evil…I'm attempting to explore other aspects of his character with this fic. As always, I do not have the priviledge of owning Landa or any other Inglourious Basterds material.****

She listens for him above the sound of her bare feet as they scuff and smack the cold stone floor, but hears nothing. She is hunting the ultimate hunter and can scarcely keep from laughing at their game.

Her pace quickens and she turns the corner, her long dressing gown billowing behind her. Where is he? His house is labyrinthine, every corridor leads to another and every door looks the same as the last. Weary of running, she skids to a stop and reaches for the nearest doorknob, but yanks her hand back as though stung…confused by the warm, wetness there. Her gaze drops to her quivering fingers. Thick redness drips slowly down her wrist and she gasps, wiping her hand reflexively on the white silk of her nightgown. The dark blood has congealed, though, and sticks to her hand. She rubs harder, smacking her hand on her thigh, but it only makes it worse. The crimson goop stains her dress and clings to her hand, even trickling lazily from her elbow. "No….no, no. Get off!" she begs through clenched teeth. Wringing her hands and swallowing tears of panic she sets off at a run again…"Hans?" she cries feebly. No answer. Blood pounds in her ears, flooding her brain with pressure. The hall curves to a dead end…she picks a door and rushes through it. "HANS--" she stumbles through the dark room, keeping one hand on the wall at all times. As her eyes adjust, her stomach rolls. The walls shimmer with more burgundy in the shape of swastikas. The horrifying symbol smiles from every angle, melting and dripping like wax. "HANS!!!!" she shrieks once more before passing out.

Landa paces his bedroom, his eyes never leaving the twitching, sweating Eva in his bed. The doctor pulls the stethoscope from his ears and turns to the Colonel.

"She is delirious--"

"Hans…" Eva moans aloud, an unnecessary confirmation of the doctor's words.

"The fever is severe," the doctor continues. "But it is breaking, this is the worst of it. You must continue to draw the fever from her head and keep her hydrated. To think that she wandered through such a storm…Do the parents know?"

"Of course!" Landa spits impatiently.

"Well, my opinion is that she is out of danger. She needs rest, to be sure…but better to let her have her dreams…it is the mind's way of expelling the toxins." The short man says reassuringly.

"Hmmm…" Landa mumbles distractedly and waves the doctor from the room.

Once they are alone again Landa approaches the bed and sits cautiously on the edge. She looks so young…what is he doing with a twenty year old in his house? At least her parents were not storming over with ready accusations…on the contrary: Herr Schultz practically chortled with joy when he phoned Landa after the cable. _"As long as she's with you, m'boy, I am not concerned."_

Landa carefully sweeps the plastered hair from her searing forehead and watches the tension melt from her body at his touch. She sighs and leans into his hand. He has not the heart to disturb her sudden peace and shifts his weight to a more permanent position. Such a pathetic display of vulnerability…what would his enemies say? The Jew Hunter in a tizzy over a twenty-something's trifle fever. Good thing no one is here to witness it…not even the causer of his weakness would have cognizance. He squares his shoulders infinitesimally but does not leave her side. He waits patiently while her breathing regulates and watches her ease into a calmer sleep.

***

Sunlight beats relentlessly. She sees red through the thin tissue of her eyelids and it is a moment before she remembers how to open her eyes. He is nowhere to be found. The vacant writing table gleams in the ray of light thrown from a window and the room rings with silence She must still be dreaming, still trapped in a nightmare…but this feels different. This feels _awful_. Her throat is so dry she swears she's breathing dust. Too hot, too sticky. She wrenches her sore body from it's recumbent position and attempts to swing her legs to the side of the bed.

"Just where, pray tell, do you think you are going?"

If ever there was an infallible cure, it would have to be the divine sound of his velvet voice. She feels instantly better. If this a dream, at least it is a pleasant one. Now, if she could only make her body move—her gluttonous heart seems to be consuming all her energy with its frantic beating. With great effort, her head turns to the figure in the doorway. How he manages to make such faultless posture look so effortless, she will never understand. She squints through the bright room and all resentment of the persistent light vanishes. It is as if she has never seen his magnificent face; his strong jaw, perfectly flawed by subtle crookedness. His bottom lip: full, smirking, taunting, inviting…she best not spend any more time focusing on _that_ one. Those damned, distracting dimples…The irresistible silver at his sideburns and temples…And the eyes: blue tempests precariously at bay, framed by mouthwatering crinkles; evidence of elusive smiles and laughter.

Her mouth snaps shut. Good God! She was very nearly _literally _drooling over the man.

"I—I…"

His eyebrow lifts mockingly at her all too efficiently tied tongue. The detective lurks there in the back of his gaze, though, and she knows that he will have his answer, or else…

"I, well, I was going to find you!" she stammers defensively.

"Beat you to it."

He makes it too difficult to focus. There are questions knocking at her consciousness, if only she could adjust the clarity. Even as she tries to concentrate less on him, she is annoyed that he does not approach her.

"Will you not come in?"

"Would you like me to?" he asks innocently.

"Not if you're afraid of getting sick…" she counters; wise to his game. She knows how to play too. His eyes flash and he crosses to the bed in an impressive bound.

"Afraid, Fraulein Schultz? I've been here the whole time! Small respite have I taken from your side since three days ago."

"Three days…that's how long--?"

"Yes." He anticipates her thoughts. "Three days. My personal physician attended you and thought it best not to move you, hence your continued presence in my home and in my room."

"But my parents--"

"Have visited you every day. I assure you, you were well cared for…despite your regular complaining…"

The heat is back, clambering clumsily from her navel all the way to her cheeks. She has always been one to mumble in her sleep…what debasing things she must have muttered! Fever induced sleep-talking? The humiliation knows no bounds.

"What did I say?" she croaks, afraid to hear the answer.

A lascivious eruption of dimples serves as his cryptic answer.

"Oh, nooooo," she groans, her head slamming into her palms. "My parents? Oh God! What did I say in front of my parents?"

"Nothing unbecoming of a lady…" he assures, and Eva straightens, expelling a sigh of relief.

"Not in front of your parents at least."

"Arghhh." She covers her face again, too embarrassed to look at him. Curiosity gets the better of her, though, and she spreads her fingers to peep up at him through the gaps. "How bad?"

"You said my name…quite a bit, actually. And you made a few…er, requests." If his haughty smile hadn't been so alluring, she would've thrown a pillow at him.

"Out with it then! _What _did I ask?"

"You asked that I help you…that I stay with you. Once, I don't think you were very pleased with me, you said: 'Why?' Oh yes," he adds in mock remembrance, "and you recounted some of our more _intimate _encounters…very articulately, I might add…and you entreated that I oblige you to more of the like…"

"So in plain German you're telling me that I basically begged you to kiss me?"

The smile widens.

"Wunderbar." She winces, unenthused. "Out loud?"

He nods.

"Repeatedly?"

"Essentially, yes." His obvious satisfaction is impossible.

"But _not_ in front of my parents?"

"I am fairly certain that they were out of earshot for the majority of your more explicit elaborations." He backs smugly up to the writing desk, bracing his weight on his hands. "They're not here now, at any rate…so if you have any more inappropriate propositions, it's best to get them out now." He brings a hand demonstratively to his ear, and leans in.

"Hah!" she laughs. "You have enough incriminating ammunition to last you a life time! I _would _like to get cleaned up, if that isn't too offensive to you."

"Very well. Though I think the tousled, sickly look suits you--"

"Did my parents bring anything for me to wear?" she interrupts.

"Ja, natürlich." He juts his chin in the direction of the water closet. "Something to eat, perhaps, when you're finished?"

"Bitte! I could just kiss you for suggesting that!"

"We've well established that fact, I think." He throws a glance over his shoulder as he glides from the room.

***

She raps lightly on the door, not wanting to interrupt the beautiful melody seeping through the heavy wood.

"Enter." The haunting tune continues to tumble from the other side of the door.

She obeys. His eyes follow her as she crosses the large library to meet him at the piano; he does not need to look at the keys. The Colonel's body shifts slightly to the side, inviting her to sit. She slides in next to him, her left leg flush with his right as he works the pedals. She studies his masterful hands and he studies her face. His attention makes her skin tingle, as if he were plying her and not the piano.

"Bach?" she breathes shakily.

"Mmm," is his only response.

The luxurious notes crash over her, calming and electrifying all at once. The rhythm drives her thoughts, propelling her mind. What to make of this?

Of them?

He had cared for her while she was sick—given up his bed and his work. He is still the same man, though; still infamously deadly…still a hunter of Jews. Yet, here in this beautiful house, swathed in his music--she can't help but be drawn to him. It matters, yes, that she does not agree with his violence. It matters that he does some very bad things…

But it also matters that she wants him.

That she can think of no one else. That she dreads the inevitability of her return to her parents' house.

He is intoxicating. And not just his agonizing good looks but also his mind. Can she so easily disregard his virtues? His crippling intelligence, his sophistication and endless talent?

There is a Jekyll and Hyde to every man…would she condemn him for his duality? Would she throw out the most intriguing relationship of her life?

The music has stopped and Landa waits for her to emerge from her reverie.

"Shall we go to the dining hall?" he asks after some length.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Eva…" he scolds. "You are starving. It has been days since you've eaten. Come, no more of this foolishness--" he stands and extends his hand.

"I don't want to eat." She insists without budging.

"What is it now?" He becomes exasperated so quickly, she notes.

"It's nothing…"

"Eva…" He folds his arms and hangs his head, clicking his tongue.

"I can't make this work. The math of it all! How can I _think _one thing about you and _feel_ another?" She searches his face for wisdom.

"You have been ill, do you really think _now_ is the best time to investigate metaphysical quandaries?"

"I can't escape it! Why should I pretend to? I need to know what I am supposed to _do_…?"

"I can't answer that for you, I'm afraid. I _can_ tell you what I think is wise: I think you should _eat_ firstly, and then I think you should do what you can live with—what makes _you _happy."

Easy for him to say! He doesn't have parents to answer to or moral dilemmas to ponder. He isn't trying to keep from falling for a murderer…

She takes his hand anyway and allows him to pull her to her feet. They are halfway to the door, when she breaks. Wanting to shut out the noise and unable to deny the electricity of his touch any longer; she tugs forcefully on his hand. His face is genuinely confused as she pulls him in for the first real kiss they've shared in weeks.

He is so surprised that his eyes are open and his lips frozen. He pushes on her shoulders gently.

"Eva, stop…" he murmurs against her lips.

"Why?" she gasps between kisses. When he does not soften, she pulls back a few inches, "You put me in charge of this department…and now I'm taking charge!"

"You are confused…you just said so yourself," he whispers consolingly, cupping her chin.

"Not about you! I know exactly who and what you are! The rest I can deal with. You said to do what I want…this is what I want!"

"Eva, I will not take advantage of you! Do you want to have regrets?" he holds her eager face at bay, with his strong fingers.

"Hans, you are NOT taking advantage! Have you so quickly forgotten my embarrassing fever-induced confessions? Just, please…let's try again…this is different from before. We are not the strangers we were the night we met. Am I ignorant of who you are? No! Am I delirious? NO! Now, turn me loose and let me kiss you!"

He measures her eyes for a long time. She breathes heavily, impatient for his decision. Finally his hand slides from her chin to wrap lightly around the base of her neck. He blinks and it is answer enough for her. She brings a shaking hand to his face and combs her fingers through the silken silver at his temple.

"Thank you." She whispers and her lips are on his again. Only this time he matches her fervor and she is pleasantly addled by his delicious ministrations. She would kiss him all day, every day, if she had her way. How could they have wasted so much time _talking_, with such a superior means of communication at their disposal? His lips caress her jaw, nipping playfully.

She rakes and pulls at his soft hair until he growls huskily on her neck. He presses his weight into her body, willing her to walk backwards. He shepherds their locked forms with building momentum until her back slams up against the bookshelves. Her back arches at the contact, and they both take a moment to breath jaggedly.

"You are so…" she pants, unable to communicate the sheer elation.

"Impossible? Insufferable? Intolerable?" He whispers, a kiss for every adjective.

"Precisely." She smiles into his heavenly mouth.

"So does that mean you'd rather eat?"

She smacks playfully him on the chest and buries her nose in his sweet smelling neck.

"Shall we head back to the bedroom, then?" he laughs, his Adam's apple buzzing against her lips.

"What for?" she asks wickedly. Her hand snakes to the top button of his crisp shirt and she captures his lips once more.

****If you're still awake…I'll buy you a strudel if you review…with fresh crème!****


	8. Kapitel Acht

****Look out conservatives…this gets mighty steamy! Enter the M part of the rating. But not too grotesquely graphic, I'm a big believer in imagination always being better than what I could ever spell out. Also, I think anything too much more graphic would be an assault on Landa's sense of taste. Enjoy! This is probably it for this tired old fic. If you're still around, I thank you for your interest in these two. It's been a jolly good time writing this fic and chatting with you wonderful reviewers! I don't own a shred of Landa, but sweet Lord I wish I did!****

The Jew Hunter's mouth on hers…

The Jew Hunter's lips at her throat…

His hands on her waist…

His breath at her ear…

His eyelashes tickling her cheek…

His teeth feather-light at her jaw…

_Her _breathing is much too loud and the pounding of her heart is far too quick. Books at her back and Hans Landa's delicious weight crushing her chest…but not crushing enough. Never enough. She can still breathe, can still pant, can still gasp and sigh and whimper.

The slick button at The Jew Hunter's collar slips through her frantic fingers yet again, and she gives up; satisfied to simply claw at the cool material of his shirt. There is lean muscle there beneath her trembling fingers and the mere thought of his warm skin is maddening. At least Landa had not bothered with a tie, today. He chuckles in his throaty way and helps her to dispense with the topmost button…then the second…and the annoying third. She cannot help her palms and their greedy exploration of his understated musculature. Fingernails graze his perfectly modest chest hair and sneak underneath the lapels of his coat to grip his strong shoulders…he seems real enough, she decides. Off comes the decorated coat. It clatters to stone floor, the many medals tinkling like tiny bells.

The air shimmers and swirls with their heat and the glittering light thrown from the stained glass dances on his handsome face. It is her turn to make him groan when her hesitant tongue tastes his lips. The sensual sound makes her spine hum like a tuning fork. Pitch perfect.

His thumbs hook into her hipbones, and tug at her soft cotton dress. Nervous, but needing no further encouragement she turns, resting her hot cheek against the cool books, giving him access to the zipper at her back. But instead of Landa's fingers on the zipper, she feels them sweep her hair to the side and his wonderful mouth on the back of her neck. He is clearly not in any hurry, intent only on savoring each sensation. Eva on the other hand, can't make herself focus. How can she, when his lips and tongue torture neck…while his hand presses into her ribcage…while his torso and legs sear her body at every blessed point of contact?

She reaches behind to pull him closer, wanting to make him melt into her. But The Jew Hunter growls at her impatience and pins both her wrists above her head. A husky giggle escapes her lips and his chest shakes in response at her arched back. She allows her eyelids to close and inhales to calm herself. The smell of books: paper and leather. The divine smell of Hans Landa: warm, clean, masculine and dangerous. Finally, at last, at long last…she hears the zipper teeth disengage…one…by…one. The dress falls open and cool air sweeps on her shoulder blades, awakening every single nerve in her body.

It is an unwelcome and confusing surprise to both of them, however, when the library door rumbles with a fierce knock. Eva's eyes snap open and Landa growls viciously, slamming his hand violently into the books above Eva's head.

"WAS? WER IST DA?" Landa roars.

"Dietrich, Herr Oberst," comes the muffled reply.

With an angry growl, Landa yanks the zipper back up on Eva's dress, turns her around like a rag doll and shifts their bodies to face the door, sheltering her from view.

"WAS JETZT, DIETRICH?" the Colonel seethes.

"Verzeihen Sie mir, Herr Oberst. An urgent cable from The Führer himself: we have several rebellion leaders in custody. They await your attention, sir."

Eva cannot see Dietrich over Landa's shoulders but can definitely hear the poor man's embarrassment in his voice. How obvious the situation must be to him…Landa's wasted coat lies at her feet and his shirt practically hangs from his body. Humiliation colors her cheeks, yet she cannot help the resentment that washes over her. Things had been so perfect just moments ago…

"Are they held in France?" Landa asks calmly. It ruffles Eva to think that Landa is so easily sobered, while her heart still beats unevenly.

"Nein, Herr Oberst. The captives are mid-transport, and make their way through Rheinland-Pfalz. Shall I arrange for you to meet them?"

"No," Landa cuts the embarrassed soldier off. "No, I desire to speak with The Führer first. Get his office on the radio, if possible. I will be there momentarily. Thank you, Dietrich."

"Jawohl." Dietrich takes his swift leave, anxious to breathe less awkward air.

Eva stares mutely at the motionless set of shoulders before her, and dare not move or speak.

"Are you alright?" Landa's silken voice asks.

_What a silly question?_ Eva muses…until she realizes that her hands clutch the back of his shirt, and how her entire frame shakes.

"I…yes…I think so." She breathes, letting her hands drop to her sides. As soon as the sentence leaves her lips, however, her knees buckle and she begins to sink to the floor. Her body seems unwilling to function properly. Landa catches her, of course, a strange expression in his eyes.

"I'm sorry…I don't know why--" she apologizes.

"No, _I_ am the one who's sorry, Eva…but this is not something I can ignore. I need to speak with Hitler immediately; I need to gather more information. Can you make it to the bedroom on your own, or shall I have Dietrich see you back?"

"NO!" she blurts, not wishing to endure any more embarrassment. "No, I'll be fine. I'll rest, I promise. How long do you think you'll be gone?" she struggles in vain to keep her tone calm.

"I don't know that I will be leaving at all. I'll do my best to come and tell you if it comes to that. I can't have you stay here, if I leave, though. Not by yourself, not after you've been so ill…there is much to be decided…I am truly sorry, Eva. Excuse me." He sweeps from the room leaving a quick and dizzying kiss on her mouth.

For the second time, she is left confused, disappointed and abandoned in Landa's library. Miraculously, though, her feet move and carry her numb body to the door.

***

How she ends up back in Landa's bedroom escapes Eva's foggy mind, but she is grateful to be on autopilot and does not question it. Denying her desire to simply sink into the comfortable sheets of Landa's bed, she drags her lead feet to the W.C. and draws a scalding bath. Steam fills the cold room as she slips out of her dress and drapes it over the backrest of vanity stool, before talking a seat. Her slip-clad reflection stares from the hazy mirror and Eva likes what she sees. It seems cliché, but she is most certainly not the brash girl that stormed over here just days before. She has thought and dreamt long and hard about herself and about Landa. About what is important, what she is willing to fight and to accept. Her physical advances are proof enough of that. She may be a hormone riddled twenty-year old, but she is also extremely conscious of the significant initiation she made not an hour ago. She is also conscious of just _who_ that initiation was directed at…

Hans Landa: Hunter of Jews. Detective. Genius. Murderer…

Or is he not Hans Landa: Man of sophistication. Musician. Expert Linguist. Scholar. Lover…?

Why not both?

Two sides of the same complicated coin.

It's not as though her qualms have disappeared, rather that she has decided what she is willing to live with. Just like he said. No doubt, she will have conflicted feelings about his job and his methods in the future. In fact, she wonders idly, just what his '_interrogation'_ of the French resistance captives will entail…

He is dangerous…incredibly so. Eva cannot deny that a part of her is incensed by that danger--that she is curious about and attracted to it. What that makes _her_, she doesn't know…and she doesn't quite care, either. Life does not deal in absolutes, why should she?

She riffles through the drawers of the vanity until she finds a brush and begins to pull it through her hair. The unmistakable scent of Hans Landa meets her nostrils; the brush must have some of his aftershave in the bristles. She squints at her reflection, the mirror is so fogged that she can no longer see herself, so she leans forward to wipe the glass clean.

A scream rips from her throat to see a man staring at her in the glass. A hand clamps hard over her mouth to stop the sound.

"Shh. It's just me. I didn't mean to scare you…" Landa croons in her ear, kissing her neck and moving his hand from her mouth to her shoulder. She feels gooseflesh erupt all over her body despite the room's now warm temperature.

"Hans! What are you doing here?" she gasps trying to sound more composed than she feels and folding her arms in a feeble attempt at modesty.

"The French will keep till morning…" he whispers, still leaning over her and staring wickedly at their reflection. He appears to be at complete ease with her lack of proper clothing…but then again, his shirt _is _as wonderfully unbuttoned as it was before Dietrich interrupted them.

It takes a moment for her to grasp his meaning, but when she does, the smile that lights his eyes is echoed on her face.

"Really?" she squeals. "You're staying?"

He nods in affirmation and twirls a lock of her hair absently. "Were you _planning_ to flood my bathroom?"

Her eyes travel to the reflection of the almost over-flowing tub behind her and she leaps to her feet with a yelp. "Scheiße!"

She closes the taps hastily, and the sound of running water is replaced by his dark chuckle. Red-faced, but determined to ignore Landa's taunting expression; Eva crosses the room haughtily to reclaim her seat.

"Darf ich?" The Colonel motions to the object in her hand.

She raises a suspicious eyebrow and surrenders the brush with a warning look that could very well rival one of his own.

"Fraulein Schultz, you frighten me!" he gasps with mock innocence as he pulls the brush gently through her hair. It feels amazing/

"_I_ frighten _you_? _You_ who crept in here on cat's paws and scared me half to death?"

"Hmm. Point taken," he concedes gravely. "But I already apologized for that…"

"How is it that you are able to stay? Dietrich seemed to think the development was pretty important--"

"And it is," he interrupts softly, "but The Führer feels it is more intelligent for me to wait for the convoy to reach its destination…rather than storm off to a moving target. Are you trying to get rid of me?" He stops brushing her hair and lets the challenge ring in the silent room.

"What if I am? I _was _just about to bathe after all." She teases.

"My mistake. I thought you were keen to spend more time together…I'll leave you to it then. I have paperwork to tend to anyway…" He hands the brush back to the stunned girl and heads casually to the door.

"Paperwork!" she quips. "After what Dietrich walked in on earlier you want to do _paperwork_?"

"The war will not win itself Eva." He says with his back to her. His tone is quite serious and she isn't sure what to make of it.

"Hans Landa! If you walk out of this room right now, I swear to God I will never speak to you again!"

"A threat, Fraulein?"

"A promise." She corrects.

"Good." He growls. "I loathe indecisiveness…"

And with that he rounds on her, tearing his shirt off as he goes.

She doesn't even have proper time to marvel at the exquisite sight of him before his mouth is on hers. Her nails claw at his naked back: so warm and smooth. He goes too slowly, though. Once again she has more clothes on than he, and he does practically nothing to help her change that. She wants to rip the incessant slip from her body, but he is wrapped deliciously around her, preventing her from doing so.

"Hans…" she pleads.

"Yes?" he prods coyly.

"Get me out of this wretched thing!" she commands.

"Very well." He sighs, chuckling at her unyielding impatience.

She bends to grab the hem of the thin silk, but he pulls her upright and turns her lazily in place. Nimble fingers unfasten the tiny buttons down her back and he slides the delicate straps down her arms, leaving a trail of sinful kisses. Gravity does the rest of the work and the garment falls into a lustrous pool at her ankles.

"Finally!" she huffs triumphantly. She whips round and pulls his face to hers, their bare chests crashing like rock and wave. He moans into her mouth with such urgency, she knows she will pass out. It is too much. He is everywhere. She can see, taste and smell only him…only Hans Landa. There is nothing else in the world but this overwhelming bliss…and it feels too good! A slow painful throbbing beats somewhere deep in her belly. It hurts, God it hurts. But she prays that it will never end!

"If you thought for one minute, " he pants while she nibbles at his neck. "that I was capable of walking out of this room…"

She hushes him with her lips, which he gives in to for a good minute before reluctantly pulling away.

"How on earth would I have been able to finish what we started, with you a whole room away?"

"Shut up Hans!" she begs leaning in to him again.

"Be careful..." he warns so seductively that the throbbing in her belly will surely kill her.

"Make me!" she challenges.

His responsive growl and kiss is so agonizingly delectable that she has no doubt that he will. He will, indeed…and she will never ever tire of it.

****Ahhh! I want a Landa! Tell me how much you do too!****


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